Vegas Heat
by Mr. Chump Time
Summary: 1979. Two Teams: The "Jenny" Team and the "Powerpuff" Team poised to deliver a deadly payload to Washington D.C. In Las Vegas, only five men stood in their way. And they were ready to do whatever to stop them. Rated MA for Language and Violence.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

As a hunted animal charged through the desert valley, did a wanted man. Abandoning his car, the fugitive—wounded from multiple shotgun pellets to his side—ran into the dusty plains, hopelessly attempting to evade capture. He did not make even a yard from the highway when officers pulled up to further their pursuit. Out of the lead vehicle came a tall, dark agent. Dressed well, the agent wore a dark-grey three-piece suit, complete with a blue deco-styled tie. He strode across the asphalt shoulder and reloaded his Winchester bolt-action. Bringing it to his shoulder, the agent fired into the fugitive's back; who fell into the dust. Reloading once again, he and the other agents approached the writhing fugitive. The tall agent turned him over with his oxford shoe. "Are you done with this shit?" The agent asked.

"You'll never get them," the fugitive coughed up more blood, "This is too big to even fucking imagine."

"I'm not the imaginative type, I guess," he reloaded his rifle, "Now you better tell me where they are, Tucker."

"Fuck you, blackie."

With that response, the agents pumped his body full of slugs. Blood splattered across his face, the agent replied, "We're back to square one," The tall agent was none other than Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms' legendary officer Stuart Hopper, now clear on the case of a smuggling operation in the Sin City. With clearance from Washington D.C., Stuart and his band of agents had clearance to "Terminate, with Extreme Prejudice" anyone who stood in their way.

* * *

The agents were a motley crew of rag-tag, ex-patriot terrorists. With shaky allegiances, the five recently christened agents held their ultimate loyalty to Stuart, and no one else. The first member, and Stuart's partner, was Special Agent Johnny Blanchard. Johnny had worked with Stuart for years, and the two were as close as brothers. They both served with the highly-classified Studies and Operations Group in Cambodia. Stateside, they came up through the FBI, where they switched agencies to the newly-formed Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. With his personal flair, Johnny dressed sharp in three-piece suits and black loafers. In his holster, he carried his personal "steed": a Colt M1911A1, nickel plated.

With a bad temper, Agent Félix Du Bois had worked with Stuart and Johnny in Cambodia. French Canadian by birth, Félix learned the complex jungle environment while he served with the French Foreign Legion during the First Indochina War, later branching out to the United States Special Forces. An expert in counter-terrorism, he came back to the United States to work with Stuart on some private conditions. A burly man, Félix was not as tall as Stuart, but just as brawny. He dressed impeccably as well, wearing solely black suits with matching cowboy boots. His personal firearm—his Mauser HSc—was small, but deadly with the right shot. And Félix rarely missed.

Close friend of Félix, Khlot Kosal came due to his experience with the three in Cambodia. Kosal was a member of the paramilitary anti-communist Khmer Serei, where he and Félix led an unsuccessful coup d'état against the Cambodian crown in 1963. With blood on his hands, Kosal left Cambodia after the American Incursion in '70, later leaving the Southeast with Félix when he got the call from Stuart. Small in stature, Kosal was a force to be reckoned with, being a master knifesman and a crack shot with a pistol. He carried his brawny favorite, Colt Trooper in .357 Magnum.

The heavily-tattooed "Bowler" Walsh knew no one before arriving in Vegas for Stuart. No shorter than Félix, Bowler earned his nickname bowling cricket in his native North Ireland. His past traced to the paramilitary Ulster Volunteer Group, where he supposedly killed several Irish Republicans with his bare hands. Stuart called upon Bowler for his ties to terrorism, knowing that it takes a terrorist to catch a terrorist. Bowler left North Ireland several years before the Troubles escalated, knowing that he was a prime target for the IRA. Openly homosexual, Bowler loved himself a pretty-boy to accompany him on long trips, and had a soft spot for college-aged twinks. Looking nearly as deadly as he really was, Bowler sported hidden sleeve tattoos, including the Red Hand of Ulster tattooed on both hands. Bowler also had ties to Vegas himself, working with his partner several years on mob hits in the city. His personal gat was his pre-'62 FN Hi-Power, which he held with pride.

The four were called upon by Stuart to infiltrate a domestic terror organization smuggling a nuclear weapon across the United States. The group consisted of the "Jenny" team, three folks who built the nuclear device, and the "Powerpuff" team, the three who were sworn to protect its passage across the country. Their target: Washington D.C. Hopefully, to cause a massive panic across the nation, forcing a coup on the government, where they would take power. The Jenny team would take the White House, and the Powerpuff team would take the Pentagon. Stuart's posse was aimed to stop it. If they could not stop it, the United States Marine Corps was poised to take over, yet Stuart was not going to let a bunch of "jarheads" take his job.

* * *

"We're not just done yet," Johnny reminded Stuart, "this guy," he pointed to Tucker, dead in the dust, "he's just some fuck. He didn't know shit either. C'mon," he put his hand on Stuart's shoulder, "Let's get back to Vegas."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Down in the dirty streets of Los Angeles, two men made their way to the wharf. On Pier 7 stood a dilapidated meat packing plant, abandoned years before. The two cautiously walked up a rusty staircase to the plant, not wanting to be found by interlopers. When they walked through the threshold, they saw two scientists, bent over a large device they could not make out. "So, is that it, Brad?" One man asked.

"I think so," the other replied, "Let's go get a better look, Tuck," the two climbed down rafters to the floor below. The older man, Brad, stood nearly six foot yet looked taller due to his lanky appearance. The younger, Tucker was only 5 foot 2, resulting in a horrible Napoleon complex. Both dressed for the occasion, wearing their black trench coats over starched white shirts, topped off with black fedoras. Below, they met the intrepid scientists, doting about their project.

"Ah! Brad and Tucker!" the wirey-haired scientist exclaimed, "Glad you could make it!" She was shorter than Tucker, with grey hair and a big mouth. She wore her white lab coat off-kilter and in her spastic fashion, kept her goggles on her head.

"Why wouldn't we miss something this big?" Brad answered.

"Is this it?" Tucker asked the kneeling dark-haired scientist.

"This is it," he answered, standing up. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he continued, "This is our portable device that we've been working years to complete," he was much taller than Brad, with a massive frame to compliment his black hair. Wearing the classic white lab coat and goggles, the scientist made sure that he would not ruin the wirey-haired scientist's life work.

"So," Brad asked, eyeballing the smaller-than-expected device, "What do you call it?"

"It's the Explosive Jammer, Attempt 9, or as Dr. Wakeman calls it…"

"It's our 'Jenny!'" she replied, nearly knocking over the others.

"…Right. So when do we leave to deliver it?"

The dark-haired scientist walked across the three, "We'll be departing tomorrow night. That's where they'll come in handy," out of the shadows emerged three tall, thin women. They dressed scantily; in tight, color-coded polyester miniskirts, matching belly t-shirts, and thigh-high boots. One dressed in pink garb seemed to be the leader, with her red-hair tied in a ponytail. The blond with girly pig-tails wore the blue, and she appeared the most timid. Finally, the one wearing green with bobbed black-hair grimaced at everyone, putting up a tough façade for the world to see.

The three almost knocked Tucker on his rear, "_Them?!_" he shouted.

"Yeah, how the fuck are three teenage girls going to help us transport it, Utonium?" Brad asked.

"These aren't your average teenagers," Dr. Utonium explained, "These are my three daughters, they've been trained…"

"…In martial arts," the red-headed one interjected, "I in Muay Thai."

"Knives as well," the blonde added, "I'm a master with a dagger," she held up her favorite five-inch blade.

"Firearms are my specialty," The black-haired one hissed, withdrawing a .380, "Just one pop," she imitated towards Brad, "And they go down."

Wary, Brad stepped back, "Okay, I get it. So when we leave next week," he turned to Utonium, "Who takes the, you know, device?"

"The girls and I will take the device. When we arrive in D.C.," he pointed to Brad and Tuck, "You will get to plant it."

"We can go over the specifications later, as well," Wakeman replied, leading them out of the plant. The group agreed to meet in Las Vegas in the coming ways, taking separate routes to throw others off their trail. The Doctors would take the AMTRAK there, while Brad and Tuck took their car to the Sin City. The Device would be shipped by the girls in a stolen Federal Express truck. No one asked whether or not the girls let the original delivery men live.

After they went their separate ways, Tucker asked Brad, "Why are we meeting in Vegas anyway?" soon lighting a Camel.

"To finalize the plan before we get to D.C.," he replied as they walked to his Plymouth, "Wakeman's too fucking concerned to let the girls handle it all the way to the delivery point. We'll probably be making stops all along the way, next at Denver, then Kansas City, you know."

"It just seems a little foolish to me to make all those stops."

"I know. But, she's the one who made the damn thing, so we've got to follow her rules," the two then departed the wharf to prepare for the trip.

* * *

The white-lined hallways of the ATF's headquarters flashed by Stuart's eyes, as he strode to his superior's office. He had been called an important mission down in the Las Vegas desert, yet that was all he knew. Stuart hated debriefings, especially when his trusted partner Johnny was left out. Arriving in the office, the superior had him sit down at the head of his long table. At the end stood the Secretary of Defense, who's thick spectacles hid a more sinister dark view; the ATF Director, his baggy eyes stared over his long mustache; along with Superior Richard Bentley. "Good to see you," Bentley greeted Stuart with a firm handshake. Bentley had always treated Stuart fairly, considering the fact that he hired him outright even before Affirmative Action. He stood shorter than Stuart, but hid his brawny frame underneath his dapper suits.

"Same here," Stuart replied, "This must be big if you guys are here to debrief."

"This is huge," the Secretary replied, closing the door, "This is way bigger than the LaGuardia Bombing four years back," With that, Stuart listened in deeper.

The head of the Bureau pulled out a file and handed it to Stuart, "This woman, a Dr. Noreen Wakeman and her partner, Dr. Rudolph Utonium, have developed a portable, fission nuclear warhead down in Los Angeles."

Stuart glanced at the wirey-haired woman, "Portable, you say?"

"Not enough to make that big of a dent," the Secretary said, "But big enough to create mass pandemonium."

"So where is she planning on taking this device?"

"Here," stated the lanky head of the ATF, "Washington D.C. is her target."

"Their plan?"

"A coup," Bentley remarked, "They figure that through the chaos, they can step into power," he handed another file, "These are the people to watch out for."

Stuart grimaced at the photographs, "Three teenage girls?"

"Utonium's 'daughters,' only God knows what he's done to them. Those girls are going to be the main security. They're highly trained in combat techniques; you're going to have to watch your ass with them around."

"In there are two other photographs as well," the Director added, "Bradley and Tucker Carbunkle, who're going with them to plant the device with the doctors."

"We think they may have a spot in the future coup as well."

Stuart stood up, holding the files, "So how the fuck are we going to stop them?"

The Secretary grinned behind his thick-rimmed glasses, "By any means necessary."

"You have the absolute control over this project," Bentley added, "You're assembling the team, the mission, everything. You'll be flying into Las Vegas tonight, where the device is set to arrive in a week from now, according to our sources."

"You mean to tell me that I have the 'okay' to use lethal force?"

"Any means necessary," the Director repeated.


End file.
